


Not My Design

by raiast



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Domestic Fluff, First Christmas, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Size Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiast/pseuds/raiast
Summary: The two of them have survived manipulation and betrayal, stabbings and gunshots, separation and incarceration. How has something that should be so easy by comparison ended up so difficult?





	Not My Design

The pair grunt with exertion, red and sweaty and frustrated.

Will curses. “Ow! Jesus, Hannibal, slow down! Brute force isn’t helping the situation at-- OW! Fuck, stop, it’s  _ poking _ me!”

“Need I remind you that this was  _ your _ idea, dear Will?” his partner pants back. “You practically begged me for it, after all.”

More puffing and groaning. Will curses again. “Yeah, but the blame of size rests solely on your shoulders,” he rejoins. “ _ And _ I had thought that  _ you  _ of all people might have a little bit of finesse. Maybe shift to the left a bit-- Shit! Nope. Worse.”

Hannibal pauses in his efforts. “I have to say, skeptical as I was at the suggestion I  _ did _ at least think it would be an enjoyable activity, or I never would have agreed. Perhaps we should concede defeat and abandon the notion altogether.”

Will stares back at the man that had moved Heaven and Hell to earn Will’s friendship, trust and love, had plotted and schemed and then waited patiently for  _ years _ to reclaim his own life and freedom. He stares at him and attempts to recall a single time when Hannibal had given up on anything, ever. Even his surrender to the FBI hadn’t been a defeat--not really.

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna call it quits. Just like that.” The two of them have survived manipulation and betrayal, stabbings and gunshots, separation and incarceration. How has something that should be so easy by comparison ended up so difficult?

When Hannibal’s shoulders sag at the blatant goading and he refuses to respond, Will sees all of his plans begin to unravel.  _ This is  _ not _ my design. _

Hannibal sighs again, “I’m sorry, love. It simply won’t fit.”

They both loosen their grip; the branches rustle as the tree settles to the ground between them. Will kicks at the damned thing. He has the urge to keep fighting, though he knows in the end it won’t be worth it. Spending their first Christmas without a tree is disappointing, but it won’t kill him. “Unbelievable. Fine. You have the stump end,  _ you  _ drag it back out. I’m done getting scratched.”

“Yes, Will,” Hannibal nods and hoists his end once more.

“And you owe me--two hours out there and hauling the damn thing back. All for this. I expect mulled wine with dessert.”

“Yes, Will,” Hannibal grunts as he begins to work the tree back through the too-small doorway.

Will sighs down at the floor as the departing tree sheds more needles. “Don’t think I’m cleaning this up, either.” Now he’s just being petty; he is very doubtful that Hannibal would entrust a cleaning job to him anyways. He follows Hannibal to the doorway, watching as the abandons the tree near the side of the house. “And Hannibal?”

“Yes, Will?”

“I’m picking out the damned tree next year,” he informs him. “And we won’t be waiting until the day before.” They hadn’t technically  _ waited _ , per se. It had been a spontaneous idea on his part that very morning, though Will refuses to acknowledge that.

Hannibal gives him a rueful smile, not shamed in the least that his ostentatious choice in evergreens has rendered their time and efforts fruitless. “Yes, Will,” he agrees.


End file.
